


Haute Cuisine

by Lizzy0305



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal is a Cannibal, Ignores Season Finale, M/M, Spoilers, Will is a Cannibal, dark!Will, happens right after naka-choko, porn with a bit of plot, s02e10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1565057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzy0305/pseuds/Lizzy0305
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sexual frustration between the two is almost tangible, but Will still has some of his manners so he waits until the good Doctor finishes with dessert. But this was just the last part of the meal. Will wants the full course. Happens after the dinner scene in the end of Naka-Choko. SLASH</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forêt Noire

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there Hannibal fandom!
> 
> Okay so I had a dream about Mads and myself in a similar situation as the beginning of this fic this morning and a freaking bird woke me up so I was literally forced to write this out of myself before I go mad. Keep in mind, it was written at about 6:30am (gaddamn birds) before I had even a drop of coffee. 
> 
> The title, Forêt Noire is French, means Black Forest, which, as you probably know, is officially chocolate layer cake soaked in Kirsch liqueur, with cherry filling. I imagine Hannibal would make it more fancier and less cake-y. I chose this dessert because I clearly remember the taste of the cherry cream from my dream. Gods Mads was so hot. I'm gonna kill that damn bird...
> 
> Sexy.Lil.Emo helped with editing, thank you darling! I could eat you up ;) All remaining mistakes are mine!
> 
> I had all intentions to keep this as a simple PWP but of course I'm not able to do that. I added two more chapters. The second was previously published only as part of this series but I think it's better if you read them all together. Makes more sense.

They are not talking. Pleasant smiles are exchanged over the table, as Hannibal finishes the last remnants of his dessert. Will had finished already minutes ago. Since then, he’s been watching Lecter’s tender, slow moves. How his dessert fork cut into the soft cherry flavored cream and slices through the chocolate paste before it rises up to the man’s lips, Will watches it, every move with intense glances.

The aggravation in the air could be, Will is at least sure, touchable should he reach out. But he doesn’t, instead, he leans on his elbows which are on the table. He knows it is probably impolite, but he doesn’t care anymore. So many manners and customs have lost their meaning since he met Hannibal Lecter.

He enfolds his fingers and watches the man as he all but licks the dessert from the fork. He can see the tip of the doctor’s pink tongue, his lips probably not even touching the silverware. Will rubs his thumb firmly into the soft pad of his palm as he takes a deep breath. Hannibal hears him and his unfathomable eyes dart to him immediately. As he swallows and his Adam’s apple bobs visibly, he offers another polite smile to Will.

Will responds equally, his eyes still strictly following every action the man takes. He simply cannot look away. As their eyes met, Will suddenly felt like the world around them had shifted. He finds himself on one side of a river, while Lecter stands proudly on the other. They watch each other over the streaming water, both leaning down slowly to take a lifesaving gulp. Their intense gaze is attentive, with their muscles tensing and prickling under their skin. Hannibal’s antlers, like his glances in reality, interrupt the seemingly undisturbed surface and Will feels like running away from the river, from the table, from Hannibal Lecter. He instinctively knows danger, why isn’t he moving now? Did he discard this instinct as well?

A drop of the red sauce falls down, Lecter doesn’t notices but Will does. It’s like blood. Thick and red. He needs to inhale deeply again he’s too close to jumping up from the table.

Hannibal puts down his fork neatly at three o’clock on his plate, which is all but licked clean. He dabs his napkin over the corner of his lips, as if there could be any remnants of their dinner there. He has such an eerie, graceful presence it unnerves Will. Hannibal’s tongue drifts over his lower lip as he looks at Will.

Suddenly Will can taste cherry on his own tongue.

“This… Forêt Noire is… uhm… very good,” is all he can say and even then he barely manages as he gulps, probably loudly and visibly. His heart hammered in his chest, his whole body is shaking.

“Indeed it is.” Hannibal agrees with a slight nod of his head and another unsettling smile which sends a wild shiver down Will’s back.

The last of his boundaries fall apart like soft, warm pastry when cut with a blunt knife. “Would you like some more?”

Hannibal’s answer is a guttural moan of, “Yes,” and they both jump up from the table. Hannibal walks with steady steps, he doesn’t look at Will, either he doesn’t want to or he doesn’t trust himself enough to. Will certainly believes in the last as he reaches out and clasps his shaking fingers around the man’s wrist.

The sheer power in Hannibal’s arm as he pulls him towards the kitchen is enough to make Will hard. He loves it, he wants to feel it used on his own body.

They reach the kitchen and that’s as far as they are going to get. Hannibal slithers out of his touch and loosens his tie with three fingers, while he taps his left hand two times on the counter as he finally stops. The gesture somehow sends an eager twist right to Will’s groin and he hops up there as directed.

Hannibal, much like Will, is unable to wait even a second more, he pushes Will’s thighs apart, not just with strong hands but with his hips as well. Will loves how he needs to stretch his legs wider than is comfortable to press closer to the other’s body and when they finally touch he groans fervently.

Then he feels lips on his, tasting like cherry, sour and sweet at the same time and he licks, sucks and kisses whatever flesh comes into contact with his mouth. Strong hands are on the lower side of his back, he can feel them. Fingertips are dashing into his skin, he loves them. He loves everything about this. The raw kisses, the teeth, the touch, the taste of cherry and the smell of expensive cologne. He loves it all and he craves more.

He’s pushing down Hannibal’s heavy suit coat, who lets him, surprisingly, and the pricey piece of clothing lands on the clean kitchen floor. While drawing his fingers into the soft mane, he claws into the broad shoulders and grasps into it not for stability but because he loves how Hannibal’s shoulders tense under his touch, because he loves feeling the stiff muscles move as the strong arms stroke his back, rubbing and kneading his skin as if it were the pastry they had just consumed.

Their raw desire changes nothing when Hannibal’s lips find his neck. At first the man just kisses and sucks on his skin but then suddenly he bites down and Will almost comes that second. He presses down the doctor’s head more determinedly and the strength of the bite increases. He whimpers helplessly then thrust his erection against the nice vest covered stomach.

The guttural moan this time doesn’t come from him. Lecter’s palms slide to his sides, tugging at his shirt. Will lets out a frustrated grunt, he doesn’t want to wait. Lecter understands it. There is the sudden sound of ripping fabric and the shirt falls off from his shoulders, Lecter finally touches naked skin.

Will couldn’t be happier.

He could, he realizes when Hannibal leaves his throat and shoulder and his wet lips enclose a nipple. Utter delight washes over Will as the sensitive nub is grinded between sharp teeth and he moans loudly.

When Hannibal’s hand rubs against his erection the first time he almost comes again. Just almost, because Hannibal seems to know how close he is already and he bites down on Will’s nipple just too hard. Will lets out a painful cry, but in the middle the pain changes into enthusiasm.

The hand on his cock moves, slithers, rubbing down, while fingers are working on his pants, unbuttoning, unbuckling, or unzipping Will doesn’t care, _can_ _’_ _t care_ , he doesn’t have the mind for it at the moment.

He notices though the forceful jerk, when Hannibal tries to get him out of his pants, trousers and boxers both at the same time. Will keens and lifts himself, realizing too late that the clothes are already at his knees, sliding more and more down. He toes his shoes _and_ socks off and he’s almost proud of himself when he opens his eyes and catches a glimpse of the feral hunger in Hannibal’s eyes. His own animalistic moan comes as a surprise, as the last time he saw a similar expression on the man, he was eyeing his dinner. And Will knows exactly what kind of dinner that was. And even that expression didn’t come close to the one that is now on the handsome face.

Will leans back and raises a leg over Hannibal’s shoulder, and knows in the back of his head that he must look ridiculous because he’s naked on a fucking kitchen counter and he’s not at all smooth like Alana, not at all womanly. But Will doesn’t want to think anymore, he wants something else and he wants it now. He tugs Hannibal closers, who comes eagerly and when Lecter looks at him, he realizes ridiculous is not what’s on the other man’s mind. It’s lust, desire and need.

Hannibal licks his upper lip, such a simple action yet it starts a ferocious moan in the depth of Will’s throat. Lecter doesn’t need more, he grabs the side of Will’s legs as he bends his own knees.

“Hold on,” is the only thing he says to Will as a warning and he barely has time to grasp the edge of the counter before Hannibal seizes his leg in an almost death grip and lifts him from the counter while jerking him forward.

Will faintly remembers a pose from his childhood called ‘candle’; both legs in the air, his lower body supported by leaning on his elbows, his two hands at his waist. This pose now was similar yet entirely different. His legs were over Hannibal’s shoulders, crossed at his ankles on the man’s firm back, his heels digging into the firm muscles. He was supporting his body by leaning on his elbows, yes, but he was sure Lecter would hold him if he were to slump from the pleasure, as two strong hands cupped his arse and held him up.

The man’s eyes rake his body up and down with yearning and desire etched into them so clearly it sends Will’s cock twitching. Hannibal watches his reacting member as people look at a juicy steak. As he observes silently, his grip on Will’s body remains unwavering.

Will never liked it when people observed him, but it was always different with Hannibal. Now, he reacts differently as well. Instead of pulling away he pushes closer. He arches his already curved body, pressing his bare, needy cock closer to those damnable lips that whispered such sinful things to Will.

Will all but screams when Hannibal takes his erection in all the way down right away. He knows Lecter is not like this in a usual situation. He’s controlled, all the time. How else would he be such a good serial killer?

But this isn’t a usual situation, how could it be with Will. He was after all Lecter’s design, wasn’t he?

The man sucks on his erect member and for god’s sake Will can see the outline of the head of his cock poking through the thin skin and suddenly he sees the black, twisted monster with the antlers. He doesn’t hate it anymore and he doesn’t hate Lecter anymore. He simply can’t. The man’s right, as always. You can’t hate the destructing storm, nor the devastating fire. But you can admire them.

So Will admires Hannibal. He admires the red tinted, sharp cheekbones, the pink, wet lips around his cock, the vivid, observing eyes, the messy hair. The realization dawns on him. He’s naked in Hannibal Lecter’s kitchen, his clothes are littered on the ground of the meticulously clean room, and he’s having the time of his life with a cannibalistic murderer.

Why is he enjoying this, he doesn’t know but god help him he does enjoy it. He loves it, every second of this game with the vague suggestions and the lame cannibalistic puns. How is it not obvious to everyone? How was it not obvious to him from the beginning? But that’s past now and he’s not willing to go down that road, he’s too busy enjoying the present.

The noises coming from Hannibal are torturously arousing, while the sight of the man having his erection in his mouth is simply wicked. He almost tips himself over the edge when he thinks about how it would feel if Hannibal would bite now. And the man does, as if reading his mind, he presses down his upper teeth, he doesn’t actually bite, Will only feels the steady pressure of the sharp teeth and it sends him moaning wildly.

Hannibal’s fingers are fanned out over Will’s buttocks and waist as he holds him up in the air and suddenly he starts thrusting Will’s hips up and down and all Will can do is to go with it, thrust deeper and faster, while he tries not to come just by the thought of the sheer strength in the man before him.

Hannibal could do anything with him at this second and Will would be powerless. The man is smirking between his thighs, Will can tell this just by looking at the unfathomable eyes and he also knows that they are both thinking about this. He shoves his hips up and his cock slips slightly deeper and the eyes that observe him deepen by several shades.

He smirks now too, because he’s powerful as well. He’s not just a design anymore, he became equal with Hannibal when he killed the first time and enjoyed it. When he created his own design.

He comes arching his back and all but screaming. Animalistic, wild cries break out from his throat and he doesn’t hold back, not now, not with Hannibal. His semen shoots down the man’s throat, who tries to swallow it but the attempt is futile; Will watches as it oozes out at the edges of Hannibal’s beautiful lips and drips back on his groin. His head lolls back and his eyes close, he’s barely able to exist.

Hannibal releases his softening cock and slides him down slowly back onto the counter. Will gathers the last of his strength and tries to sit up so the doctor won’t need to hold him anymore and he doesn’t even slip down to the ground. He sits up and looks down at his body as if assessing the damage.

There’s no damage. There’s just Hannibal, still standing between his thighs in his elegant tailor fit suit, which highlights his erection perfectly. Will wants a taste more than anything.

Hannibal clears his throat and Will looks up.

“I apologize.” Lecter grunts as he wipes off the semen from both sides of his lips with his thumb. Will wanted to lick it, the finger or the lips, he’s not sure. “I lost my manners.”

“Happens to all of us.” Will offers with a shrug and smile. He had lost more than his manners during the last couple of months. The fact that Hannibal’s control snapped during foreplay and he devoured Will like this was actually flattering.

Will shrugs out of his shirt and lets it fall to the ground among the other clothes. He slithers off the counter but as Hannibal refuses to step away he has to press against the man firmly, not that he minds it. His tongue licks at the lips that minutes ago were around his cock. He can taste himself. It goes well with the cherry that still lingers on his tongue.

He can feel a spark of the previous wild desire flare up in his stomach.

“In case you have forgotten, manners dictate to offer a second serving to your guest as well, not just for yourself, Doctor.” Will suggests nipping at the man’s jaw with his teeth. Hands are shifting on his body, caressing him softly.

“Will,” Hannibal sighs but Will hears it is more like a moan. “Would you like some more?”

“Yes, please.”


	2. Rôti Filet Mignon de Bœuf au Poivre et Lavande

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have already read this part when it was first posted. I'm sorry for the confusion.
> 
> Kudos for the writers of the show because subtlety is one hell of a fucking thing to do and I'm pretty sure I'm on one of the two extremes: either so subtle you won't even get what I'm at sometimes, or so obvious that it is insulting to Hannibal Lecter's character. I did try my best, as least I hope you will find this a bit funny.
> 
> The title should mean Roasted Beef Tenderloin with Pepper and Lavender. But I'm not French, nor do I speak it. I'm not even English. Therefore I'm terribly sorry for any remaining mistakes below.
> 
> Oh right. And just a small heads up. Alana dies. *not sorry*

“So Hannibal mentioned you had Lomo Saltado yesterday. How did you like it, Will?” The conversation at the table this time is so reserved and respectable, Will feels somewhat bored.

“Oh I found it... delicious. Especially the ginger in it.” He’s satisfied to see an amused twitch at the corner of Lecter’s mouth.

“Ginger?” Alana asks surprised. “There's no ginger in Lomo Saltado.” The amusement is gone, there's only a slight wrinkle between Hannibal’s brows now.

“I'm not the chef, you should ask Doctor Lecter.” Will deflects with a polite smile.

“No, there is no ginger indeed. At least not in the original recipe, I however prefer to use my own methods.” Hannibal answers casually. He smiles at Alana and adds, "I must say you look absolutely dashing tonight." He lowers his voice, and takes Alana’s hand in his. He draws it to his lips and kisses it softly. His accent becomes more distinctive, when he whispers, “I could eat you up...”

Will detests every second of the display. The idea however stirs something inside him.

Alana chuckles sensually and blushes, clearly feeling embarrassed about the lack of privacy. She stands from the table excusing herself and Will wants to laugh as he watches her retreating figure.

“Ignorance is bliss.” He sighs softly.

Hannibal’s smile is smug as he says, “Indeed it is. Contentment is more easily achieved if one submits to ignorance. To be willing to see the truth requires effort.”

Will sincerely agrees. He, too, made some effort to finally see the truth. About the doctor and himself, as well.

“Ignorance is damaging… and it borders rudeness.” Will remarks nonchalantly. He watches the doctor and is pleased when he sees the small twitch again at the corner of those lips. He remembers the touch of them and it almost hurts him to know tonight they won’t touch him but her.

“And what do you consider can be done about that?” Hannibal asks, leaning back in his chair with a glass of red wine.

Will doesn't answer right away. He watches the doctor as he sips from the Pinot Noir then places it back on the table. Something catches his eyes. There's a dark red blotch on the white rose on his plate; must be the sauce.

“Do you only use it as garnish?” He asks Hannibal and prods the bloom with his fingertip.

Lecter nods and Will feels relieved. He shouldn’t feel anything but he does, because he remembers what those lips did to him in the kitchen last night. He also remembers what that body did to him in the bed. He doesn’t want to reflect on the thought that maybe he is just a garnish as well. Nothing more than decoration on the doctor’s plate of successful treatments.

Rather he enjoys the sensation of comfort that washes over him. “Ignorance needs to be treated. Violence would not work; it flourishes on ignorance. This matter requires explanation and understanding. I say… over dinner, maybe?”

“Sounds interesting. And what kind of menu do you propose, Will?”

“How about something thriving and fresh?”

He wipes off the dressing from the blossom with a finger; it looks darker against his skin. He stands up and walks behind Hannibal’s chair. The doctor doesn’t move, he doesn’t look behind nor does he fidget. Will places his left hand on the man’s shoulder and he feels reassuring warmness under the touch. He smears the sauce on Hannibal’s lower lip. He can sense the tip of the velvety tongue brush against his forefinger as Hannibal removes the dressing and his cock hardens immediately. Then Lecter bites into his finger and licks it clean and Will can’t help the soft moan that slips out of his mouth.

“I agree.” The doctor says then calmly and Will wonders if he’s indeed that calm or if his heart is racing like Will’s is doing at the moment. “Which part of the animal would be preferable for this dinner?”

“Tenderloin.” Will answers right away. His hands move around Hannibal’s neck, the tip of his fingers presses down firmly.

“Are you looking for my pulse, Will?” Hannibal asks then, his voice soft and Will knows he’s smiling.

“Yes.” It’s pointless to deny it, he had found it already.

It’s steady, which is slightly disappointing.

“Will, you should know that heart rate, with the proper technique, can be easily controlled.” As Hannibal speaks, his own hands slither upwards and he seizes Will’s wrists. He slides them down on his body and Will can feel the silk tie, the expensive fabric of the burgundy red vest. But Hannibal doesn’t stop there, he brings their hands further down and Will can feel hardness press against his palm.

He doesn’t need guidance anymore, he caresses Lecter’s erection with his palm and it almost felt like he was doing it to his own cock. They both know Alana can walk in any second and that just gives and extra rush to the display.

But he can’t help the doubts that are screaming in his mind.

Garnish or main dish?

“Effect and reaction, Doctor Lecter.” He whispers darkly but doesn’t stop with rubbing the firm manhood. “What do you suggest we do if there are two possible effects that could cause the same reaction?”

“You doubt me, Will.” Hannibal notes and there’s a hint of surprise in his voice. “You could eliminate one of the possible causes and see if the effect still transpires.” He suggests then and Will smiles against the skin at the doctor’s neck. Lecter smells inebriating. “If it doesn’t, you found the cause. In case it does, you have your reassurance.”

“So…” Will starts, already feeling reassured, his lips brushing against the doctor’s ear, “the meat?” He can feel Hannibal’s erection twitch and god he loves the effect.

“Beef?” Hannibal offers. “It would go well with some lavender.”

“Could be…” Will agrees not entirely convinced. “I was thinking of something more… malleable and perhaps succulent.” Hannibal pushes up his hips slightly and Will is pleased to see the control breaking again. “The lavender sounds interesting though.”

Alana shouts from the kitchen, asking if she should bring in the dessert. Will leans away languidly, feeling resentful for doing so. “Let me help, Alana.” He offers, walking towards the kitchen.

“Will,” Hannibal spoke softly. “Remember, thriving and fresh.”

“I know, Doctor Lecter, _stress-free_. Don’t make the meat bitter about dying.”

Will can hear Hannibal’s soft chuckle and it makes him smile too.


	3. Salade de Rose aux Courgettes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As indicated at the end of the previous chapter, Alana is no longer part of our world.
> 
> A bit more talking and a lot more sex below.

“Art isn't just paint on canvas or black notes on paper. Art is a piece of your very soul that you let others to see, judge, criticize, love or adore. Art is something universal that touches you on a very personal level. Art talks to everyone, yet you feel it whispering only into your ear.” Hannibal says looking deep into his eyes and Will _understands_ it. He knows the meaning behind every word, yet he is scared. He crossed a line tonight, and he will never be able to step behind it again. Would he want to?

Randall Tier was killed out self-preservation. His display was to prove a point.

Alana Bloom was killed so she can be reborn as something much more beautiful. She died in order to show that she was more than a garnish on a dish. She died so she could become the art she always has been.

“Art reflects the world as you see it hence it lets others see that world through _you_ , through _your_ art. Art is connection, Will. When you can't let others in any other way, art can be your option. It doesn't matter how you show the love, the passion, the anger, the sadness, or the madness that resides inside you as long as you express it. Choose the method that can best help you channel your thoughts.”

Will’s eyes are on the body in front of him, he barely notices Lecter as he moves around him.

“Find your design.” Hannibal says from somewhere.

Soon an image shows up in Will’s mind, hazy at first then the details are more and more perceptible.

“Embrace it.” Hannibal whispers from right behind him. He faintly feels the kiss on the back of his neck but he’s already submerging in his own mind, going as deep as possible to find what he’s looking for.

The next second, he is already watching the final display with something close to amazement. It feels somehow wonderful. The guilt is gone, he doesn’t feel it anymore. There’s nothing else just amazement, appreciation and of course a tiny bit of pride in him. He doesn’t know how much time went by, he doesn’t even care. This is how creating works. If the inspiration strikes you move with it as if dancing. You let it take you where you would never go without it.

So this is what it’s like. He stares at the gorgeous white wings almost bursting out of Alana’s back, as if they truly did belong to her. Now, he knows they did. Now he sees the beauty, which will transform Alana into her new self.

He doesn’t even know how long he’s been there just staring and not moving at all, taking in the display in its own unrefined reality. He doesn’t even notice Hannibal’s presence, he just somehow becomes aware of the intense glance on him which makes the skin on his nape prickle.

Hannibal walks around the display, his expression unreadable for Will. He observes, analyzes, who knows, he’s silent and it drives Will mad. Because this is it, his judgment and Will knows it perfectly. If he’s wrong, his life will end now. If he laid his trust in the wrong person, everything will end now. Lecter witnessed him murder someone; one word and the whole world would know about it. This is a fact that nudges in a corner somewhere in the depth of Will’s disturbed mind.

Hannibal Lecter has immense power over Will. That is a different fact. One that is at the forefront; it is clear and bright, because it is something very important to Will. Such power should be illegal to hold over someone, it is after all completely terrifying.

Will becomes suddenly aware that he’s more worried about what Lecter thinks than about getting caught. Since when does Hannibal Lecter hold such high position in his mind? Or is it in his _heart_?

Instead of the display he watches Hannibal now, following his every move. The man steps slowly, and observes every inch of what was once Alana Bloom however now holds a deeper meaning of beauty.

Will is sweating, and is anxious and he fidgets like a small boy.

“I told you, you wouldn’t like me psychoanalyzed.” Will says quietly, hardening himself to the inevitable disappointment in the man’s voice that he is sure he will hear soon. Lecter is _too_ quiet, _too_ composed, _too_ … everything and Will is afraid he might have misinterpreted their relationship.

That thought alone is more unbearable than the idea of spending the rest of his life under Chilton’s adoring care.

Then Hannibal finally stops and looks at Will. His expression is still unreadable to Will, and if it is to him, it would be for anyone else, too.

“You are quite right, Will.” Hannibal agrees stepping closer and Will feels destroyed.

The calm voice, the closeness, the words; each aspect tears something from him. Then Hannibal is close enough to touch him and he does indeed. The palm on his face is warm and soft and Will unwillingly nuzzles it.

“I do not like what you have become, but I _love_ it with passion and desire. I love you how an artist loves his own art. But you are more than that Will. You are a piece of art that came to life and now creates his own masterpieces. I see a hint of myself reflected in your work and I feel honored. I am very proud of you, Will.”

He lets the words wash over him like a river with fresh, cold water, taking the last of his old self with it as well.

“I am not you, Hannibal.” He looks into the unfathomable eyes and he’s greeted with an adoring smile.

“I have never claimed that. You are you. But we are alike you and I, Will. You are my design. And this…” He turns around and looks at Alana Bloom’s cold body. “This is…”

“This is my design.” Will finishes but his eyes aren’t on her. That display is already etched to his very soul; it is something he will always remember and carry within him. A part of Alana and her transformation into something more meaningful.

Instead, Will watches Hannibal. So many things are still left unrevealed about this man and the mystery that lingers around Lecter intrigues Will. Will he ever find out Lecter’s true self? Will he one day realize the true person under the well-tailored expensive suits? Will he be allowed that luxury?

He touches Hannibal softly, his fingers slither around the wrist hesitantly and unsure. Lecter turns back to him with a raised eyebrow, his eye finally unguarded.

Will is surprised to see the warmness and tenderness in the endless gaze.

“Say it.” Will begs. “I need to hear you say it.”

Hannibal regards him, his eyes watch Will intently and Will knows why. Lecter is still searching for evidence that _he_ might be wrong.

“You have seen who I am.” Will says stepping closer. “If we’re equal as you say, I need to see you, too.”

“You have been seeing me for a while now, Will.”

“Yet it feels I’m watching you through fog. I see your outline, I see the footsteps you leave behind, but your true beauty is hidden from me by the mist that always surrounds you.”

“You know who I am.” Hannibal breathes close to him. He can feel the soft, warm air tickle his lower lip.

“I used to think I know you. Then you showed me a truer side. How could I be certain that you won’t shed this layer as well?”

“There is nothing to shed anymore, Will. Beneath this lies only flesh and bone.” The soft kiss, which touches his lips, sends a forceful jerk down to his groin.

Will is perfectly aware of the dead body in the room next to them. He should feel outraged and disgusted. Instead, he feels arousal. It’s not the body, the display, the act he committed, he does not get aroused by the fact he had killed someone.

The enticing feeling comes from the power he knows he has over Hannibal now. The man is on his hook and no matter how hard he wriggles, Will will hear what he wants to before the night is over. Because he has to. He needs to. He doesn’t know why, but that is the truth.

He kisses Hannibal hard and bites down on the thick lip between his teeth. Raw and passionate.

Lecter claws at his sides, if he had just a tad bit longer nails, they would be bruising. Will is all hard again, just like that, one kiss and he’s all but ready to be taken, to be consumed by this man.

“Not here.” Lecter moans stepping away suddenly but Will grabs him and pulls him back for one more kiss. He knows the rules, too. He’s just too tempted to break them.

Hannibal stops him, he’s too much in control and Will doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like that at all.

When Lecter smiles, his expression is chiding. “We shall continue this someplace else.”

He looks around, his gaze lingering on Will’s design only a second longer then he’s out of the apartment, dragging Will, too, leaving nothing behind just a fine piece of art. Will follows without question, easily staying in step with the hurried strides.

They sit wordlessly in the car and Will is staring out at the black trees rushing past, deep in his thoughts. He only understands what’s going on when his gaze shifts on the brightly lit screen. Though Lecter’s movements would never indicate it, they are actually hastily going back to Hannibal’s apartment. It is evident as they had left behind the speed limit a long time ago and have been in the three digit range for a while now.  The Jaguar slips through the darkness effortlessly, just as easily as Will’s hand moves onto Hannibal’s thigh.

A side glance is all he receives as acknowledgement but then the dark eyes are back on the road. The car purrs beneath them as Lecter pushes the pedal even further down.

They are back home, yes, Will refers to it as home now, in no time, considering the distance. He’s out of the car before the engine stops, Lecter follows not far behind.

He’s inside before he can realize it and a hand on his waist steers him on a path he knows well already. The bedroom is dark, not that he needs any light to shed his clothes and find the huge bed in the middle. Yet the room is soon covered in bright light.

Will is covered with another man, clothed but hungrily taking his lips and sucking them with wild vigor. Will doesn’t have any problem with the fabric, he removes it easily and unnoticed. Silk underwear brushes against his cock and he moans, considering leaving that on for a few more thrusts. Hannibal doesn’t resist, he pushes down, his kisses becoming more and more ardent.

He grabs Will’s upper arm, tears himself away from the kiss and tugs forcefully at Will, who has to steady all his muscles so he doesn’t turn onto his stomach. The wildness in the move is desperate and Will smirks on the inside because he once again made Hannibal Lecter lose control and nothing gets more satisfying than that.

He pulls down Hannibal and pushes his tongue into the heated mouth, grunting, pushing up his bare cock. He tugs up his legs, but that is not enough so he wraps them around the other’s waist, pulling him strongly down. When the understanding that Will wants it face to face this time dawns on Hannibal, he grunts softly.

 “Say it.” Will says again but this time, it is not begged nor asked. It’s a clear order and he knows he will be answered even before Hannibal leans away and looks him in the eyes.

“I’m a murderer, Will. I kill people and I eat them.”

The confession strips his reality to its barest stage and with that their acts become raw and uncivilized as well. Will doesn’t know why he needed to hear this when he knew it all along. He did know it with certainty, yet hearing it being confessed makes him tremble.

He opens his eyes in the middle of a fiery kiss and his eyes met with another open pair. It gets to him right then.

The trust; that’s what he needed. This was worth nothing if they cannot trust each other.

His eyes are stuck on Hannibal as he pushes himself up front the bed and he straddles the man. There’s no haze around them anymore, the mist is gone they see each other as their own naked self, no cover, no place to hide anymore. This is them, their identities stripped to flesh and bones and Will loves it to the core of his heart, so much it’s almost painful.

He can’t take his eyes from Hannibal as he slowly slides against him, the head of his bare prick running against his hairy stomach. He’s fucking hard and all he wants is to become one with Hannibal Lecter.

He doesn’t let his eyes close when wet fingers shift inside his ass, he just keeps staring down at the man. He barely blinks when the fingers start moving, even though every stroke touches his prostate with the precision only a doctor can have in anatomy. The pleasure is painfully delicious already, and the fact that he sees only himself reflected in Hannibal’s eyes is even more arousing. A thumb brushes firmly against his perineum, and he grasps into the perfectly cut and styled hair that is a mess now.

He claws at the wide shoulders, tears the soft hair, moans with abandon but he wouldn’t look away from Lecter’s chocolate eyes even if his life depended on it. He moves on the digits inside him and Hannibal’s face contorts in wild pleasure as he smashes his fingers up even further. His lips lift slightly from his teeth as he snarls, Will can’t seem to find another word that could describe what he sees.

Raw. Animalistic. Wild.

The indomitable power in Lecter’s core comes out again and sweeps Will away as well. He loves that he’s the only one who can bring this out of Lecter without ending up as dinner. Because he’s perfectly aware that the hand, which is on his neck right now, has the power to snap it within a second. The thought is not terrifying anymore because he knows Hannibal. He would never hurt his own creation, he’s too proud to do that.

He pushes Hannibal back on the bed and kneels over him, leaning with one hand onto the panting stomach. He can sense the heartbeat under his palm and the fact that it is racing, that it isn’t controlled anymore, sends warmness to his heart.

He still watches the intensely burning eyes as he grasps Lecter’s hard cock. The fingers slip out from him, giving place to something much bigger, much firmer, and much, _much_ more delicious. He aligns himself but he forgets to be careful when he sees Hannibal take his fingers into his mouth and lick them clean.

He pushes down, his cock jerking, while Hannibal thrusts up and Will notices a fleeting smirk grace those lips but it’s gone almost the second it shows up. Lecter eases his way in with small shallow thrusts, unwilling to look away.

When he’s fully inside Will he stops, grabs Will’s thighs and tugs on them. Will has to arch his back to lean on the bed with both hands while Hannibal changes his position. It is an incredible feeling as the hard manhood stretches his insides, utterly weird yet entirely pleasurable. He doesn’t realize it can get even better until it does.

His feet are on either side at Hannibal’s shoulders, the man is grasping into the sensitive skin over his calf, the force in the grip is bruising and then Will leans back, slowly, until he’s flat on the bed between Hannibal’s legs and he feels full; emotionally and physically and every other way it is possible. He grabs onto the legs next his head too, looking for more contact even thought he knows they are already bonded to their very soul.

They move slowly first and soon Will realizes he won’t be able to hold on much longer. Hard manhood presses firmly to his prostate with every languid stroke, as they are still searching for the perfect rhythm. Will is lost in the painful pleasure already, then the perfect pace is found and the thrusts become more untamed and raw just like at the beginning. The pleasure is blinding and constant and painful and sweet all at the same time and Will is screaming though he can’t hear it. His own mind if filled with Hannibal’s lustful moans and fervid grunts, scents of sweating bodies and sounds of skin slapping against skin.

It’s too much and not enough at the same time. They can’t come, though he’s wildly clutching around Hannibal’s prick already.

It happens so fast, he’s not able to register every move, though he suspects, even if Hannibal moved slower his mind would still be blind from the intense, aching pleasure.

Lecter shifted from beneath him, quick like a venomous snake and the next second Will’s hips are pulled up and Hannibal pushes back inside his ass with one fast and hard move. Will is all but folded in two, his knees are over Hannibal’s shoulders. One hand grasps his hip the other smashes down next to his head and he’s fucked into the bed with such force he expects the antique furniture to break.

The furniture doesn’t come apart but Will does and when he can finally look into those depthless eyes he sees that Hannibal is right there with him, lost in the pleasure, all normalcy gone, nothing else just sheer power and wild spirit in a swirl of raw emotions.

He pulls down Hannibal and kisses him, crying helplessly into the other’s mouth as he comes hard and long, the blinding power of his orgasm washes away the last touches of reality as well and he falls deep into nothingness.

For hours it seems,  there’s nothing just Hannibal’s warm body curled up against him. Then slowly, the world builds up again but Will knows this isn’t the world he had known all his life. This is something new, something unknown.

Hannibal smiles at him, eyes glimmering in the now dim lamplight. He turns onto his stomach and kisses Will softly and tenderly and Will melts at the adoring sensuality.

He looks at Hannibal Lecter and loves how the man looks all disheveled. The slight flush on his chest and neck, the wet hair that sticks to his face and is otherwise a complete mess, the swollen, red lips, eyes still hazy from satisfaction, the smile that is positively boyish; he loves it all.

He couldn’t part from Hannibal. Not ever.

“Jack isn’t an idiot, you know.”

The expression on Hannibal’s face says he thinks differently.

“If they find Alana, he will suspect us. He already does. We can’t just keep going on killing and eating people just like that anymore.”

“Why?”

Will smiles because Hannibal sounds like he’s just slightly pouting. “The _FBI_ is onto us.”

“Do you wish me to stop? I _would_ _…_ for you.”

Will thinks about it for a few seconds, his eyes meanwhile roaming the well known face.

“I am not a gourmet like you, Hannibal. I don’t mind what kind of food you put in front of me. But I do enjoy hunting with you. The Cheasapeake Ripper however, needs to vanish.”

Hannibal smiles then snaps his teeth at him playfully and Will is surprised that a wild tremor shakes his whole body. He should feel fear about their future he knows this, but all he feels instead is that lust rears up inside him again and his blood is throbbing in his cock. He’s not the only one who notices the reaction that was brought forth.

“In my ending, you are my beginning.” Hannibal whispers kissing his neck and moving slowly further down.

Chocolate brown eyes look up at him as a tongue licks his belly. “How does Italy sound?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed today's menu. I might come back with some Hor D’Oeuvres one day. Italy is, after all, a very romantic place. Until then, Bon Appétit.


End file.
